Alarm Bells
by MandyQ
Summary: Lucius has a vocation as a Death Eater. How does this affect his home life? How does it affect Narcissa? Spend a night in Malfoy manor. OoTP spoiler, TDH compliant. Please Read and Review.
1. Domestic Bliss

DISCLAIMER: The following original piece of fiction contains characters, situations, places, and a fictional universe which are the intellectual property of JK Rowling, her agents and representatives; and to a lesser degree, the property of Warner Brothers Pictures/ Time Warner Inc. These facts, characters, places, events, circumstances and sundry errata are used by myself with no prior permission. I have not sought or received, nor is it my intention to seek or receive any remuneration for this work. No infringement is intended.

Archival of this work is permitted, invited, and encouraged.

I love reviews more than food and oxygen. Tell me what you think even if you hate it, pretty please.

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"Narcissa, did you love me when we got married?"

Narcissa shifted on the fainting couch and turned to look at her husband. "I suppose I did," she told him, "but I'm not sure I was aware of it at the time."

"Not aware of it?" Lucius retorted, feigning distress. He was standing before the mirrors in his oversized closet, buttoning up a black shirt in preparation for going out for the evening.

"Were you in love with me?" she asked him. He turned and arched his eyebrow at her.

"Very much," he asserted. She smiled up at him.

"What made you bring it up now?" she asked. He tucked his shirt into his black leather trousers and took a few steps toward where she was sitting. He leaned over the back of the settee and flashed her a mischievous grin.

"I don't know," he teased, "I've been feeling a bit… nostalgic." Narcissa blushed a little and grinned up at him. She knew he was telling the truth about that. Ever since the Dark Lord had risen again, Lucius had acted like he was twenty years younger. He had come home the night after the Dark Mark had first called him back with a passion in himself that Narcissa hadn't witnessed since before their son was born. They had been like newlyweds again. Narcissa had considered penning a thank you letter to Lord Voldemort for her husband's renewed enthusiasm of the past year.

Lucius cupped her face in his hands and kissed her before returning to his closet to finish dressing. As he fastened his trousers he asked, "What do you mean you weren't aware?" Narcissa shrugged and stretched her legs out, leaning against the swooping back of the velvet fainting couch.

"Well," she replied, fiddling with the lace on the bodice of her robes, "When you've loved someone for more than half of your life, it's hard to pinpoint the moment that you became aware of it."

"But you agreed to marry me."

"Of course I did," she affirmed, "I will admit that I'd always been somewhat enamored with you. Really, I was quite fond of you, I enjoyed the time we'd spent together, and you were roguishly handsome. And you do know that you were the only one who asked me before asking my father."

"Well, his permission didn't matter if I hadn't yours." Lucius grinned at her as he fastened his hair back with a leather band. "And I adored you," he added, "but I wasn't sure that your father approved of me as a match. Old money isn't always as friendly to new money as one might hope. I knew, though, that he had never denied his daughters anything they had asked of him and so it would be to my benefit if I had you on my side going in. Maybe we should have waited longer to marry, until you were madly in love with me."

"We waited long enough, I think," she told him. "Our wedding was perfectly in the middle. The Goyles were married what, six months after we were; and the Crabbes just weeks afterward."

"Only the Parkinsons got married before we did," Lucius reminded her. He then considered himself, "But you see how well that turned out." Narcissa chuckled as she took a cherry from out of a nearby bowl and ate it.

"Ivy Parkinson is a horrible woman and it did not surprise me in the least when Christopher left her. I hope he and his new wife are happy and well wherever they went." Narcissa shuddered a little. "I hate the idea that I may someday be related to that woman." She shook her head, "why couldn't any of our other friends have had the decency to give birth to girls?" Lucius laughed out loud at her.

"Well, Draco has made friends with that teaching assistant," Lucius offered. "Maybe she'll introduce him to a nice Irish girl."

"You'd have our son married to an Irish girl?" Narcissa asked, shock in her voice.

"Anything to keep you from having to be related to Ivy Parkinson," he replied, a sarcastic smile on his face. "And half of the marriageable pure blooded girls in France were at his school last year; maybe he met someone from Beauxbatons that he's not telling us about." Narcissa shook her head.

"A French girl," she considered, "that could be a welcome change. Perhaps we should send him on a tour of the Continent this summer; maybe he'll meet someone interesting."

"I think he'd like that," Lucius agreed. "I think he'd really enjoy a trip with his friends; a little relief after his O.W.L. exams. I'll try and arrange it with the Crabbes and the Goyles."

"Oh, no," Narcissa countered, "not with those boys. The three of them would do nothing but sit in pubs and cause trouble and get drunk. No, better we send Draco alone if we really want him to make new friends. Isn't that what your father did to you after your N.E.W.T.s were through?" Lucius examined himself in the full length mirror and looked her in the eye through his reflection.

"You know why he did that?" Lucius asked her. Narcissa shook her head as she popped another cherry in to her mouth. Lucius grinned. "Because after the fifteenth week of his trying to force me in to marrying Ellison Bulstrode, who I could not stand, I asked him what was so wrong with wanting to marry for love."

"I hadn't known that," she arched her eyebrows at him.

"It's the truth," he confirmed. "He sent me to Europe to forget about whomever it might be that I had fallen for. He said that love was a luxury that only the poor could afford and that I needed to forget about whoever she was and that he hoped I had some sense when I came home."

"So what happened when you came home?" she asked him, intrigued, but giggling nonetheless.

"I married her," he smiled back. Narcissa's mouth came open.

"I had no idea," she said.

"I know you didn't," he told her. He came back into the room and leaned over the settee, plucking a cherry off of the bowl and bit into it. "You thought I was just a friend of your sister's." He walked around the settee and took her hands in his. "But I'd had my eye on you for quite some time." He kissed her hands one at a time. "When I came home from Europe, my father asked if I had come to my senses. I told him no and that I fully intended to woo the young woman who had captured my heart before I left home. He said something about how a Malfoy shouldn't marry a woman just because he loved her and I asked him if that remained true even if that woman was Cygnus Black's youngest daughter and he suddenly ceased being angry and gave me a cigar and his blessing." Narcissa giggled a little more and fed him another cherry from the bowl.

"And here I thought for all these years that you never even noticed me until you came home from that trip." Lucius chuckled as he stood. She kept hold of his hands and rose from her seat, following him toward the door to the hallway. He bent his arm at the elbow and placed her hand into the crook. He led them down the stairs toward the second floor. She knew where they were headed; there was only one place attached to the manor to and from whence it was possible to Apparate. She knew better than to think that he had gotten all gussied up in leather pants for her benefit solely.

"I shouldn't be too long tonight," he told her as they reached the landing of the curved staircase. "I have to go, but…"

"But it could be anything, sounds routine, isn't likely too urgent, shouldn't take too long…." She grinned up at him. "You haven't any idea, darling," she told him.

"You oughtn't wait up," he offered.

"But I so look forward to your homecomings," she flirted. She leaned her head on his shoulder as they rounded the corner into the hallway where the library was located.

"I promise to wake you," he growled, leaning into her and burying his face in her hair.

"Liar," she accused, rolling her eyes up to look at him.

"You wound me, madam," he joked.

"You've never willingly woken me in your entire life," she mused.

"Ah, but you are mistaken, Mrs. Malfoy," he clarified as he took her hand from his arm and swung her through the door into the library, "I have never let you know when I've woken you for such things that I have done so intentionally." She pulled him closer to her and leered at him.

"You are devious," she whispered, "but if that's your oh so subtle way of telling me that you prefer to find me in our bed when you return, then I suppose I could be inclined to oblige you."

"If you'd prefer to remain awake," he conceded, "you'll have no argument from me; as long as you're here when I get back."

"You know I will be," she assured him, taking both of his hands as he stepped backwards onto the balcony, "as long as it takes," she added. She leaned out of the door and kissed him lightly on his lips, pulling his hands to her back so his arms were around her. He embraced her for a moment and then stepped farther from her out onto the terrace, holding out a hand into which appeared his Death Eater's robe and mask. Narcissa shuddered as the cool wind of the early summer's evening caught her through the open door. She leaned on the door frame. "But do hurry back," she implored him.

"I'll do my best," he answered her. "And Cissa," he looked very serious all of the sudden. She knew what was coming.

"Stay safe, keep the windows and doors shut, remain vigilant and listen for the alarm bells," she finished for him. Lucius grinned.

"I'll be home as soon as I can," he told her. She nodded and smiled back at him as, with a _pop,_ he was gone.


	2. Ringing

Narcissa shifted in her seat. How long had she been sitting there? She had finished the book that she'd been reading and had spent the last hour or more rearranging the decorations on the mantelpiece and straightening the knick knacks on Lucius' desk. She looked over at the clock on the mantle. She couldn't remember what time it had read when Lucius had left. But then again, she hated those clocks.

The clock on the library mantle was one of Lucius' alarm clocks. It had a graduated set of six bells ascending up either side of the clock face and one giant bell on the top. The bells were enchanted to ring in different combinations under different circumstances. If Lucius had overslept the tiny bells at the bottom would tinkle in a slow crescendo until he had awoken. If an unexpected intruder were on the grounds of the manor, the third bells from the top clanged loudly in protest. Narcissa had been told to listen most closely to the bells at the top of the clock. The single top bell would ring if Lucius were injured, and one night it had. Lucius had never told her the full story of that night, but he had come home bleeding and barely conscious and being held upright by a combination of the efforts of Severus Snape and Rodolphus Lestrange. She hadn't been allowed to follow them into the nearby guest bedroom and no one had ever bothered to tell her what had gone on that leave her husband in such a state. That was the first night they'd spent apart in their two year marriage, and it had been more than a week until Lucius had been fully well again. She'd wanted to break that bell ever since.

But even that one bell wasn't the most frightening. Lucius had told her that all of the bells would ring if he were to be killed and the potential sound of that had haunted her in her sleep more than one time since the Dark Lord's reemergence. That was part of the reason she had chosen to stay awake this night. That- and she really did look forward to the ardor Lucius had displayed upon his homecomings of late. And she didn't care what he said; she knew by the look on his face when he had awoken her by accident that he really was sorry to have disturbed her. So she had chosen not to try and sleep before he returned home tonight. Instead, she had put on something lacy and white and made of silk and waited for him in the library.

And she was bored out of her mind. She had mentioned to Lucius when this was all starting up again that she couldn't remember how she'd kept herself occupied when he used to be out so often. "You made those lacy things," he had reminded her, "there was one of those things pinned to every couch and cushion in this house." She chuckled remembering the look on his face. But he had been correct. Narcissa had almost forgotten her penchant for bobbin lace. The doilies had long since disappeared from the house (she had only guessed at whose insistence). She would sit up until all hours of the night bent over her blue velvet lace pillow and waiting for Lucius to come home. "And then there were the times you were sick and did nothing but sleep," he had offered, "and then you had an infant son who refused to sleep through the night." Narcissa had to been shocked that he had brought that up. He rarely discussed her near death on the occasion of Draco's birth… and he never brought up either of her two miscarriages.

Well, she hadn't an infant to care for, and she never would again. She had found her lace pillow, and even toyed with her lace making again, but she was nearly fifteen years out of practice. The lace pillow and bobbins sat in the drawing room collecting as much dust as the House Elves would allow it to and she remained bored to tears when Lucius was away.

She had turned Lucius' tall leather desk chair around to face the windows when she heard the alarm bells start to ring. She jumped at the din of the combination of noises. All…. Narcissa spun the chair around and lurched forward to lean against the desk.

All the bells.

All of the bells were ringing.

Not all. Narcissa stared at the clock on the mantle. Not all of the bells were ringing. The top bell stood still as the other twelve clanged furiously. No top bell. No injury. Twelve side bells…. Captured?

Narcissa thought she was about to throw up. Captured. Lucius. Then she thought she was going to faint. She really wasn't certain what she was going to do; her white knuckles clung to the desk as she felt her head swimming around her. The cacophony of bells ceased suddenly and only the two bells third from the top continued to ring.

Intruder? Narcissa heard a loud and irregular series of 'cracks' and found herself surrounded by the manor's small contingent of House Elves. "Missus, there's Aurors," the largest of the group said to her.

Aurors.

At Malfoy manor. She was going to throw up.

"Aurors?" she asked, unable to say anything else.

"Yessum," the same Elf answered her. "Apparated to the gatehouse; coming up the walk." Narcissa didn't have time to throw up, nor had she the luxury of fainting at this moment. She had to act.

"Go until I call you," she banished the lot of them. She darted from behind the desk through the library and out into the hallway, snatching her dressing gown from the back of the desk chair as she went. She sped down the hall at a flat run and dashed as quickly as she could down the stairs without tripping, all the while throwing her dressing gown over her shoulders and tying the sash around her waist.

She made it to the drawing room faster than she had ever thought she could and she stood in the center of the Persian rug, her heart pounding in her chest. She tried to concentrate on the feeling of the thick wool pile between her bare toes. She knew she had to stand here until the Aurors were finished with her. This particular rug had been enchanted by Lucius' great great grandmother to vanish the cramped room beneath it whenever it was being stood upon by the lady of the house. Narcissa had to keep her feet on that rug at all costs. She tried to slow her breathing, but to no avail. She could hear the clatter of boots on the stone steps approaching her front door and it made her heart leap into her throat.

"Narmin," she called out. The larger House Elf appeared before her with a 'crack'.

"Yes Missus?" the Elf answered her. His knees were shaking and he looked as though he, too, was about to faint.

"Open the door," she said to him. It was easy to be cool to the servants and, if she was going to appear composed and unaffected before the Aurors, then she had best pull herself together at once. The Elf hobbled to the door and opened it just in time to open it on a crowd of twelve men fumbling for position on the front steps.

"Missus will see you in the drawing room," Narmin pulled the door open far enough to allow the whole group access and he gestured with his hand toward the open pocket doors that led to the drawing room. Two of the men remained with the door, pulling out their wands and something Narcissa thought she recognized as surveying tools. The rest of them clambered into the entry hall and two more seemed to take up positions at the newel posts marking the bottom of the grand staircase. The six remaining came shuffling into the drawing room. One of them stepped forward and looked Narcissa in the eye.

"I apologize for disturbing your sleep, ma'am," he said to her, his voice a whiny squeak. Sleeping… yes, that's what she'd been doing in her nightgown. Narcissa was suddenly aware of just how much skin was showing where her dressing gown split at her chest. She clutched the white silk lapels together and took a deep breath.

"Well you have disturbed it," she answered him coolly. She was shocked at how even her tone had been, how calm she sounded. "State your business here," she ordered him, a scowl crossing her features. She regarded this man. He was a squat, mousy looking thing and he looked to be little older than Draco. _I have gloves older than this fool_. She thought he looked quite ridiculous as he presented her with some sort of a badge and then read to her from a scroll of parchment.

"My name is Wallace Bartram Covington the fourth," he addressed her. "I am here on the behest and by the authority of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, under the auspices of the Minister of Magic, Mr. Cornelius Fudge. I have in my hands a warrant permitting and impelling me to search these premises for evidence of: the practice of the Dark Arts, items deemed illegal or dangerous under current British Magical law, items or documents related to the activity of Death Eaters and other supporters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and other items or documents which may prove useful in the prosecution of one Lucius Malfoy, arrested this evening on charges of: Trespassing in a restricted section of the Ministry of Magic, attempted theft of magical items from the Department of Mysteries, the practice of the Dark Arts, use of an unforgivable curse, espionage on behalf of the enemies of the Ministry of Magic, high treason against the Ministry of Magic, and consorting or swearing allegiance to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." The little man took a very deep breath and handed Narcissa the parchment.

She didn't bother to look at it. She put on as pleasant a face as she could whilst still remaining cool and aloof. She could sense that this little Auror had never been inside of a mansion before, much less been confronted by its mistress. "Search if you like, Mr. Covington," she allowed, "but please remember that this is my home and I will expect you to conduct yourself as gentlemen." She spoke softly, aristocratically, and as charming a manner as she could. It was working on him, and she could tell. She squared her shoulders and took care not to look too annoyed as she called out, "Narmin! Kibbitt! Lollie! Ooble!" Four House Elves appeared in a row in front of her. Narcissa looked at each in turn as she addressed them. "These gentlemen wish to search the manor," she said, her voice still calm, still measured. "You will follow your master's wishes," she instructed, "but notwithstanding that, you will do what you can to accommodate them. And you will see to it that they respect the sanctity of our home. Do you understand?" The four of them nodded.

"Yes, Missus," Narmin answered her.

"Good," she answered, "good." She turned to the man in front of her as the four Elves dashed off in different directions. "There you are, Mr. Covington," she addressed him, "you have the full cooperation of my staff. I trust that you gentlemen will be professional and polite, and I shall wait here." She allowed her lips to curl into a tiny smile.

Covington's eyes got wide. He looked almost disappointed. Narcissa had to stifle a giggle as she wondered what they might have been warned to expect. What might they think of her at the Ministry?

Covington frowned and then turned to the others in the room, signaling them to fan out and the lot of them dashed off in the directions the House Elves had gone. Narcissa set her jaw. It was going to be a long night.


	3. Turmoil

She had never been so thankful for bobbin lace. Never in all of the evenings she used to sit up and wait for her husband had she ever needed distraction like she did at this moment. This was torture and she was pretty sure they knew it.

Twelve Aurors had become eighteen, had become twenty three, had become an endless stream of strangers parading in and out of her home. Several times she had watched in annoyance as one or another of them helped him or herself to some expensive antique or another. Narcissa knew, of course, that they would find nothing of real consequence in the house. She had made certain of that by remaining in the drawing room. As long as her feet remained planted on the rug in that room, all of Lucius' most precious and potentially incriminating possessions were somewhere else altogether. What the Aurors had managed to find was a hodgepodge of materially and sentimentally valuable heirlooms with varying degrees of magical significance.

She was beginning to have a very difficult time containing herself. Her whole world was falling apart, it was absurdly late at night, and there was a small army of uninvited strangers prowling about, rifling through her home and helping themselves to her things. She was glad that she'd had the presence of mind to instruct the House Elves to make note of each and every item taken and where it was removed from. She fully intended to present a detailed list to the Minister himself if she had a chance to; the name of Black still held some pull after all.

The knots in the bobbin lace grew tinier and more precise as Narcissa had to use the delicate threads to work out her frustrations. She hadn't even begun to think about what might be happening to Lucius at this moment. It was too upsetting, and whilst their enemies were invading her sanctuary there would be no tears. Let them snicker if they chose; she was not going to let them see her broken. She was Narcissa Black Malfoy and she was quite above that.

Narcissa could hear their comments every now and then about how they thought she'd be angry; they'd come in poised for a confrontation and they'd gotten a cool reception. She even heard one say to another that they figured she might even be "pleased to be rid of the evil bastard." She wanted to hex them to kingdom come for that one. But she knew better than to take on two dozen Aurors. So she set her jaw and she wove her bobbins.

Five of them were still in the entrance hall. They had set to the task of removing her front door. She wasn't certain as to why this was necessary, or even how it was the least bit warranted, but there they were; the five buffoons trying to come up with the right combination of jinxes and elbow grease to get the mammoth wooden door to come off its hinges.

She saw a satisfied looking procession of them trotting down the stairs as though they'd just found some pot of gold. Narcissa frowned. If there was gold in the house, they were welcome to it; there was more where that had come from. But what were those fiends carrying? "Ooble?" she called out, and with a 'crack' the rosy cheeked House Elf appeared before her.

"Yes Missus?" she asked. Narcissa signaled for Ooble to come closer.

"What is it that they're bringing down just now?" she asked the Elf, "they look a bit too pleased with themselves."

"They've been in young master's room," the Elf answered her, sounding both concerned and terrified at the same time. "They've gotten things from his cabinet." Narcissa nodded and frowned.

"That will be all, Ooble, thank you," she dismissed the Elf. Ooble disappeared with a 'crack' leaving Narcissa to seethe and worry. She had no idea what questionable items might be locked in that cabinet. Hadn't he been given a draught of illegal potion for Christmas last year by his Irish friend? She had no clue what he might be hiding in there, but as far as she was concerned those Aurors had no business in her son's room at all. And they certainly had no cause to remove items belonging to Draco.

Draco. Narcissa felt as though someone had punched her in the gut. Merlin's nightshirt! In all of the commotion, she had forgotten to tell Draco. Oh, he would be devastated if he heard news like this from someone else. Narcissa quickly freed her wand from its heretofore unobtrusive place holding up her hair and hastily shot off a Patronus to Hogwarts. If Draco heard of these horrible things from one of his enemies… well, she didn't want to let herself think about what might happen in that instance.

She shook out her hair and then combed through it with her fingers before knotting it back up and putting her wand back through it. That had been a trick she had learned as a school girl. It served the dual purpose of keeping her hair from falling in her face and giving her a place to keep her wand handy yet out of the way when she had no pockets in which to hold it.

And Lucius loved to slide it from her bun and lace his fingers through her hair as it fell.

But she could not let herself think about that. She had too many pressing, practical concerns to deal with for her to even begin to let herself miss Lucius' hands in her hair. There would be an order to this. She created an order in her mind; things that were tidy and orderly were more palatable, easier to swallow. She would keep her wits about her. She would show the scoundrels who were robbing her blind before her very eyes that she could not be brought down by their nastiness.

She watched as the front door finally came free of its hinges. It fell with a loud thud against the stone steps on the front stoop and slid several feet, blocking the stairs altogether. Narcissa rolled her eyes and huffed. That door was original to the manor and she would be damned to see her home treated with such disrespect. "Narmin!" she called the Elf to her. He came running into the room from the adjoining entrance hall and stopped just inside the open doors. "Fetch that man for me," she ordered him, pointing at the large, bellowing man with gray hair who seemed to be directing the activities at the front door. She kept her seat as he came into the room, Narmin the Elf dragging him by his wrist.

"What is it?" the man asked her, his tone and his manners as troll-like as his form.

"Sir," she addressed him as coolly and aristocratically has she had Mr. Covington.

"What?" he asked again.

"Pardon my interruption," she offered, "but I would simply like to inquire as to precisely what you're doing to my front door." She was proud of herself for getting that out without spitting in his face. He was intruding on her property and she'd pardoned herself for interrupting him while he took apart her house.

"It's being confiscated," he told her.

"Might I ask why?" she was still proud of the civility of her tone. Good breeding was worth something. She was the lady of a grand manor and she would conduct herself as such. She would not give in to her baser instincts and hex him to hell and back, nor would she give a single one of them the tongue lashing that they deserved.

"We've got a warrant," he spat back at her. He turned on his heel and began to walk away.

"I understand that you have a warrant," she conceded, "But… my front door?" Narcissa was nearing her wits' end and she could feel it. It was all she could do to keep her hands folded in her lap and a pleasant expression on her face.

"Ain't like we'll not be replacin' it with another one," he practically grunted, "You'll be getting' an un-hexable door," he added.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked.

"An un-hexable," the Auror told her again, "so's you can't keep us out if we have another warrant." He shrugged his shoulders. "So's you won't be able to keep anybody out, really," he finished.

"But certainly I have given you no cause this evening to think that I would receive you all with anything but hospitality?" she could not believe what she had just heard. An un-hexable door… on Malfoy manor? That was preposterous. And the idea that the Ministry of Magic would willingly leave a woman alone in a home undefended and with no means of locking her front door…. It was just too much.

True, it wasn't as though she was entirely helpless. The Ministry knew that Narcissa Black Malfoy could more than defend herself or they would not have sent a full dozen Aurors to serve a simple search warrant. Still, she would never have dreamed that they might take down her front door. She shook her head and took another deep breath. As she bent down over her lace making once again, she caught sight of a flash of silver just outside the drawing room window as it was reflected in a mirror on the opposite wall. She turned to look out the window and realized very quickly that it was a Patronus. But it wasn't one she'd ever seen before.

Floating just at the level of the tops of the shrubs beneath the window was a smallish silver lamb. "Draco's with friends," it told her, and then vanished. She spent a moment trying to puzzle out who at Hogwarts might have sent her that message. There was truly no one Narcissa could think of for whom she would have guessed a lamb as a Patronus. She shook her head. No matter, she believed what the little lamb had said and that her son was safe and comforted.

She wondered for a moment if she had ought to try and go to Hogwarts in the morning. The thought passed rather quickly, however, as she was sure that Draco would let her know if he wanted her there. And she entertained the notion that he might try and come home. O.W.L.'s should have finished today. For that she could be thankful, at least. If she could find one bright spot it was that her boy was finished with his exams and would not have that added stress put on him.

Narcissa craned her neck to look out into the entrance hall again. Someone had put up her new front door. Honestly, Narcissa could barely tell the new one from the one that had been present prior, but her gut knew it was different and so she hated it. It really mattered more to her that they'd replaced the hulking antique door with a reasonable facsimile than she was comfortable admitting. But it still did not sit well with her that the main entry to the home she and Lucius had shared for so many years was the property of the Ministry and not their own.

This search was a violation and it turned her stomach. Those people had violated the sanctity of her home and hearth and had left her door standing wide open to any intruder who might wish to enter. She felt ill thinking of how exposed she and Draco would be until Lucius was home. She put her face in her hands. Until Lucius was home. Merlin, how long would that be? She suddenly caught herself tapping her foot nervously against the floor. She must not do that.

Even as the Aurors were leaving the house she resolved to maintain her composure. She stood from her seat and strode purposefully, but in measured paces, to the center of the rug facing the door. She stood clutching her dressing gown around her throat and watched as what she hoped was the last of them ambled outside. The esteemed Mr. Covington approached her and stood up as straight as he could.

"We have concluded our business within your residence," he told her. Narcissa looked down at him and nodded once. Covington produced a parchment from his coat pocket and handed it to her. "I have listed here the items and documents that have been removed as evidence. Upon conclusion of this matter a determination will be made as to their further potential for use against the cause of the Ministry and those items deemed to be without need for further restriction will be returned to your possession." Narcissa took the parchment from his hand and did her level best not to sneer at him.

"I shall compare this with a list of my own," she informed the squeaky little man, "I trust that I will find your inventory satisfactory and that my own solicitors will have no quarrel with your legal grounds for the removal of any of my possessions?" She could tell that she was intimidating him and she felt a little solace in that. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his coat and nodded.

"Good evening then, ma'am." Narcissa nodded again and watched as Covington and his final three associates left her home.

"Narmin," she called out, her voice finally betraying a quiver. The unusually tall Elf appeared in front of her with his usual 'crack'. "Narmin, bolt the door," she ordered him. The Elf sprung across the rug and to the door. He shut the metal clamp over the bolt and fastened the chain locks as well. He then turned the brass key that had been left in the keyhole beneath the door handle and pocketed the key. Narcissa shrugged, "at least they left us a key to it," she sighed. The Elf came bounding back in to the room to stand before his mistress.

"Will that be all Missus?" he asked her. Narcissa nodded.

"Wait," she said to him before he had a chance to go.

"Yes Missus?" he answered her. Narcissa wrung her hands in front of her face.

"Can you lock that door, Narmin?" she asked him. The Elf looked confused.

"I turned the key and closed the bolt like you asked of me, Missus, and I pulled the chain," he replied, "if Missus wishes for the door to be further locked by…"

"What I meant," she interrupted him, "Narmin, I want to know if you can magically lock that door any better than it is locked right now." Narmin smiled at her.

"Missus is very clever," he congratulated her. "Missus knew that a House Elf can charm an un-hexable door! Missus is very clever indeed! Narmin will make the door safer. Narmin cannot keep out the Aurors, Missus, but Narmin will do what he can to protect his missus and his young master." Narmin snapped his fingers and Narcissa could see some shimmering purple haze appear and then rapidly dissipate around the new front door. She took in a shaky breath and swallowed hard.

"Thank you, Narmin," she said to him, "that will be all." Narmin disappeared with a 'crack', leaving her alone. Narcissa's chest shook as she finally let herself fall apart a little. She slowly stepped from the drawing room out into the entrance hall. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, turning the sky shades of pink and orange that made Narcissa ill to remember existed at a time like this. The feeling of safety she'd always felt in this house had likely gone forever, and she had been reduced to living behind only what security could be offered her by a House Elf. But she could have borne it. She could have sneered and spat and risen above all of these indignities had she only had Lucius to face it with her. But that was impossible now.

She turned and faced the grand staircase, her lower lip trembling as she fought to reach the relative solitude of her bedroom before breaking down entirely. She had lost much tonight, but she would not allow her dignity to be damaged further by collapsing into tears on her own staircase. She would let herself cry when she reached her room. She decided at that moment that she would only let herself cry in her room. Out in the world she would appear unaffected and maintain the air of superiority that she and Lucius had cultivated publicly for so many years. There were things to be done, and none of them could be accomplished by weeping.

She would have to contact the solicitor in the morning. She would have to pay a visit to London, to the Ministry; to see to it that those of her belongings which had no bearing on the case they were prosecuting were quickly and properly returned to their rightful places in her home. She would need to look in on Draco, or at least see to it that someone did. And she would need to pen a letter to Azkaban, requesting formal permission to visit. It was an awful thought, the idea of seeing her husband in such a place, but she would be damned if she was going to let him go through something this awful alone if she could help it.

And she had no idea whose palms may need greasing or whose pockets might need lining with galleons in order to facilitate Lucius' freedom. She had never been involved in any level of political intrigue, and she was truly unaware of what the next step might be. But there had to be a next step. Lucius could not just sit in prison and wait for a trial or whatever may come like some common criminal.

She sniffed as she tread intently up the steps. Deep breaths. Merlin, she hadn't remembered how many stairs there were in this house. Twenty-nine steps on the grand tapered staircase leading to the second floor hallway, a short walk to the next flight of stairs. Thirteen more steps to the third story. A turn to the left, a long walk down the hall. She opened the third door on her right and slipped into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

One of those damned bells was ringing. She looked to Lucius' bedside table at the clock that sat there. She hated the alarm bells. She was thankful for the bells having given her some warning of what was going on, but she hated them nonetheless. It was the top one ringing this time. Lucius was hurt. Dementors. Damn them all to hell.

Narcissa collapsed backwards against her bedroom door. She slid down the length of the door and finally allowed the tears she'd been fighting back all night to flow freely. She yanked her wand from out of her hair and flung a blasting curse at the alarm clock, which ceased its ringing in an explosion of metal shards that flew in all directions.

She could still hear the echo of another alarm ringing down the hall. She flicked her wand in a hasty and backwards _imperturbatus_ to keep from having to listen to the damned thing any longer. If anything worse was happening she didn't want to know. She wasn't ready to hear any more. Not today. Not yet. At least not until she slept.

She looked across the room at the fainting couch and the bowl of cherries they had been sharing as Lucius had readied himself to go out for the evening. Had it been just hours ago that all was well and they were happily flirting with each other? She looked over at their enormous four poster bed and imagined how empty it was going to feel without Lucius to take up two thirds of it.

Narcissa let herself sit there in a heap on the floor and sob. She knew she had to get this out of her system before she could confront any of the realities that the morning might bring. The papers would undoubtedly include something less than flattering. And she could only hope that her sister or someone else she felt she could trust knew the details of the evening's activities so that she wouldn't have to learn the particulars of her husband's arrest by reading of it in the _Daily Prophet_. Her fire was getting dim and the sun was beginning to come in through the windows. She flicked her wand to draw the shades and closed her eyes. She recalled the words the two of them had exchanged as he left for wherever it was he'd been._"As long as it takes,_" she had said to him. And she had meant it.

"As long as it takes, Lucius," she whispered, "as long as it takes."


End file.
